


Hot for Love

by AmidalasCouture



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!Piett, M/M, Omega!Vader, The Empire Strike Back AU kind of, Unexpected Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmidalasCouture/pseuds/AmidalasCouture
Summary: "There was an itch just under his skin and Firmus wished nothing more than to get rid of it.  The itch was a familiar one that he should not have gotten until the start of his leave at the end of the month. But there had been this sweetness in the air that should not be there, it clogged his nose and made his senses hypersensitive. An omega in heat that was what it meant and he did not know where it came from.  None of the officers were omegas since the subgenders were strictly separated with the omegas summing up only a niche branch. Piett himself was an alpha and had proudly risen through the ranks through intellect and ability to lead rather than hereditary connections. Choosing to investigate this issue personally, he followed the scent through the hallways of the Executor in order to find a solution. Then he saw it, Lord Vader swaying in one of the corridors."





	Hot for Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my fellow Pieder fans :)
> 
> I hope you will enjoy reading this!  
> liz_mo has been my fabulous and wonderful beta reader for this!

 

Anger, hate, fear - The dark side of the Force thrived on them all and Vader had become a being of unending anger and hate. He had made himself the One who was feared, had created himself anew, his old weak self eradicated from the galaxy. After all, Vader hated nothing more than Anakin Skywalker. It was that boy’s weakness that befell him every few months and the boy’s longings that overcame him. Anakin Skywalker had been a needy thing, always seeking attention and approval like the omega he was. Vader was not like that - he was the one . It was him who held the power, who others sought approval from and that filthy boy from the filthy sands of Tatooine was all that Vader loathed to become again. Yet the heat was becoming too much, the claustrophobic feeling of the suit unbearable. It was worse and worse every day he did not comply and at first he had not even recognised it for what it was. He needed to get out of the confining armor, away from it, wanted to gulp down fresh air like a parched man. He was a parching in a sense, deprived of warmth and skin of another being. It was only steel and hard plastic that engulfed him now, not the embrace of his Alpha. Padme had been dead for twenty years or more and since then there had been no one. How could there have been, he was trapped in this hell, dark and menacing and clamping down on him. And even then who would like an omega such as himself? Too tall, too bulky, mangled body and more scars than actual skin. Ashen white and bald, who would want to look at him. He wants to cry but all his tears have been burned away forever on mustafar. It all crashed down on him, the armor and its life support system failing to keep him dosed on the suppressors.  Now it took all of his effort to keep himself upright, to get to his chamber.

  
There was an itch just under his skin and Firmus wished nothing more than to get rid of it.  The itch was a familiar one that he should not have gotten until the start of his leave at the end of the month. But there had been this sweetness in the air that should not be there, it clogged his nose and made his senses hypersensitive. An omega in heat that was what it meant and he did not know where it came from.  None of the officers were omegas since the subgenders were strictly separated with the omegas summing up only a niche branch. Piett himself was an alpha and had proudly risen through the ranks through intellect and ability to lead rather than hereditary connections. Choosing to investigate this issue personally, he followed the scent through the hallways of the Executor in order to find a solution. Then he saw it, Lord Vader swaying in one of the corridors. Such an unlikely picture it made, Firmus nearly believed it was only a figment of his imagination. It was not . He heard the elevated breathing from the Dark Lord, gasps panting and needy and clearly the source of the scent that had them all in a frenzy . ‘This cannot be’, was his first thought as he approached. He stopped in his tracks as Vader turned, staring at him. Firmus mouth was strangely dry, his mind sent into overdrive. What should he do? What was appropriate to do? If it were anybody else, the solution would have been clear; get them to the medical station for the duration of the heat and then reprimand them as well as handing out a possible demotion. But this was Vader, it would be a wonder if he would not choke Firmus to death over the knowledge that the supreme commander of their fleet was an omega. Not that Firmus minded, he did not care about things like gender or species but rather their expertise. 

The awkward silence carried on as Piett searched for words. He tried wetting his lips. 

“ May I be of assistance, Lord Vader”, he asked and hoped it did not sound as wrong as it did to him. Vader stalked over to him, but the menacing way the Sith held himself was completely lost. 

“If you think..”, the man began, but Piett cut him off, something he normally would not have.

“I only think that it would be best to get you to your chambers and alarm the medical droids to your...condition, my Lord. The crew is getting restless,as your armour seems to have a malfunction in filtering the scent.” Vader stared at him once more, before turning around to march away as dignified as he could. Piett simply followed but did not dare to touch him unless there was no other way, or, some part of him whispered, the other allowed it. 

 

They did not talk to each other on the way to the Dark Lord’s quarters and it took all of Vaders mental power to ignore the enticing scent that beckoned him from the other officer. He wanted to growl at it, snap at him to go away and leave him alone but he also wanted to whimper, to plead with Piett to take away this empty ache inside of him. He did neither, refusing to show any weakness. Besides him Piett gave orders, so that the hallways were cleared. Vader brushed his mind against Piett’s and found nothing but honestness and concern. He wanted to cling to it, to the man attached to it who smelled of a pleasant  aftershave and alpha going into rut. It was enchanting, making him go mad from more than just the heat. Nearly stumbling into his rooms in an attempt to gain distance but his attempt was futile as Piett’s smell already clocked up his nose. He did not even register anymore how the Piett ordered around one of the droids. It was all just becoming too much and so without another thought he got rid of the helmet, letting it fall down. A ‘thud’ echoed in the room as it touched the ground, but the Dark Lord could only hear his own blood rushing through his  ears. His mechanical hands beginning to unclasp his garments.

 

After Piett entered Vader's quarters, the doors slid shut behind him. He sought out the closest droid, instructing it to alert one of Vader's personal medic droids to the situation and to later repair the man's armor. Then, he was not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances he would simply know when he was dismissed, but at the moment nothing counted towards normal. If he were honest with himself, it was his own misgivings that held him there, his deference to his second gender that made him stand there, watching Vader shed the layers of his armor while the sphere of the meditation chamber was open. It was desire that pooled low in his gut and wanted him to advance. Rationality told him to go, to leave the other his privacy. Firmus simply cleared his throat to remind the Dark Lord that he was here. Vaders head snapped up and around; he stared at him and  then the man whimpered barely audible. It did not matter. Firmus, whose sole focus laid on Vader, caught it. “I..”, Piett began, unsure what to say, to voice the want he felt. Vader without his suit was - something else. The man was marred by scars where his limbs were not replaced by metal and he was white as a sheet of flimsi but Piett could see the handsomeness underneath. Fire did not burn away the bone structure and if the man had not been muscled before, twenty years of wearing the suit made him a prime example for an anatomic lesson so well defined. Traits not desirable in an omega for many Alphas but Piett, who stood only at 165 cm himself, was not the most typical alpha. Firmus wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over the Dark Lord , lick and taste him and - for kriffs sake - claim him. 

 

“Come here”, Vader said, his voice a raspy, weak thing. Not that it was high pitched but even to himself it sounded like something that could have just been procured by his imagination. It had not,  _ his _ Admiral was moving towards him and Vader was sick of everything, of the heat and the craving, the ache and the loneliness and Piett smelled of an upcoming rut and arousal. He Vader wanted and a Sith Lord took what a Sith Lord wanted. Vader watched as Piett came to a stand before him, looking up at him and then standing up on his toes, placing a hand to his cheek. Vader swallowed down the doubt and leant in. They kissed, pressing their lips together in want. He could not quell the sound bubbling up in his chest and neither could Piett semed it seemed, a low rumble escaping him. It made Vader heady, the kiss and the closeness, the smell that now completely engulfed him. Firmus pressed against him and Vader followed the cue, stepping back until he heard the clunk of his prosthetic hitting the chair in the middle of the chamber and then letting himself be guided downward, Pietts hands pushing down on his shoulders.

“I will take care of you”, Piett whispered, “my Lord.” He straightened himself and Vader followed it with his eyes. His vision was weak but the other was close enough for him to see.

 

The stripping of his uniform was a well practiced motion. Firmus did not try to do it any different than usual lest he make a fool of himself but as far as he could tell it was arousing enough for Vader. As soon as he got rid of the last piece of clothing, Piett fell to his knees before Vader. He ran his hands over the powerful thighs, always keeping eye contact with Vader and then started to kiss and lick and nibble at the tender spot where metal and flesh met. Vader shifted, opening himself a bit more and Firmus followed the invitation, running his tongue upwards. The Sith Lord kept his hands on the armrest, the metal appendages flexing like real muscle would. It did not take long for Piett to taste the sweetness of slick. He moaned at this, the taste arousing and unique and he was heading towards its source. Vader’s cock was erect, there was no hair around it and Piett presses his nose against the balls beneath. He pressed his lips to the shaft, his fingers trailing close behind them, pressing his thumb to the skin there. Vader moaned breathily: “Please…” Piett shushed him and took the penis into his mouth as one of his fingers pressed into the slick hole of the Sith Lord. 

 

Vader could not help but moan again. It had been so long since the last time and with the heat being a burning pit of lust settled deep within him, he could not help but to rock back. He needed more to fill him, more to complete him. All the pain and rage faded from focus, an afterthought and Piett had taken away his ability to think. He raked one of his hands through the mans short hair, trying not to be too rough as he urged him on. He groaned as Piett added another finger, frustrated by the slow pace. “Enough”, Vader ordered and pulled Piett up as careful as he could managed . He did not need the warmth of Pietts lips as much as he wanted his cock inside him. The Sith Lord spread his legs further apart, bending his thighs to his chest. It was a shameful position and he felt his cheeks heat up. Firmus followed the tug at his hair and surged forward to kiss the Dark Lord. Vader tasted himself as their tongues met and their lips crashed together. He did not let go of him even as a whine escaped him at the loss of those fingers. 

 

Piett wanted to please Vader, worship him but Vader all out demanded it and who was he to deny the Lord? He could not wait longer to bury himself into the other and so he aligned himself. He thrust forward into the tight ring of hot muscle . Piett moaned into the kiss and despite Vader's labored breath they did not break apart. Piett began moving, nearly pulling all the way out to push back slowly at first but too impatient now that there was friction all around his cock and so he sped up. Lust pooled low in his gut with every thrust. he

He could feel how much tighter Vader felt as his Piett’s knot began to swell. He pushed deep into the other, changing to frantic but short thrusts as his orgasm began to build up. Somewhere along the way their lips had broken apart and Vader was mewling into his neck, biting at the skin just where a mating bite would be placed as the walls around Pietts cock clenched with every pulse of Vader’s orgasm over and over. Firmus wanted him to do it, wanted to be chosen by the other no matter how unconventional it would be for an omega to lay claim. “Yes”, he hissed, “Yes”, and Vader complied, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of Pietts neck. Firmus vision whited out as he came, pain and pleasure too much for just a moment.

 

The admiral collapsed on top of him but Vader himself was still trapped by his own pleasure that he barely noticed it. His own body was going pliant, satisfaction overriding the chronic pain he felt. He wanted to stay like this with another’s warmth on him, connected on a physical level. The thought had scared him so long, but now he did not care. This was bliss that made him sob and cry and cling to the man on top of him. He should be ashamed of himself, the indignity of his position. He was and yet this was all he craved. Piett had opened his eyes again and started peppering kisses along Vader's tear stained cheeks. Unlike the raw way of their fucking, his touches were feather light. “My Lord”, he whispered, the words rumbling in his chest that Vader could feel them against his own. He did not say do not cry or anything else for that matter and Vader did not want to hear anything. They stayed like this, silent. Firmus caressed him softly and before long Vader felt the heaviness of sleep overtake himself.

 

Piett held the Dark Lord close and watched as the others eyelids grew heavy. His own mind was wide awake, thoughts racing. Vader had claimed him, had sunk his teeth into the tendons of his neck. He would have done the same, had craved to do so but Vader had not asked. There was no regret for Firmus even if the man would never ask him to do it. ‘ _I wish I could stop your suffering.’_ , the Admiral thought and placed a kiss to the sleeping Lord’s forehead. Vader’s distress had made his knot go down faster, allowing him to slip free and make himself more comfortable. Soon the urge to fuck would be unbearable again, taking over their mind but Vader rested for now and Piett was well past the days of being a hormone crazed teenager, so Firmus allowed himself to do the same.


End file.
